by Aleena Siddiqui
A sharp knock sounds at the wooden door of our cabin. I force my aching body off the couch and make my way through the small hallway. The door swings open and he stands in front of me. Eyes rimmed with red, whiskey emanating from his pores. He shuffles through the doorway, stomach grazing the side of the frame.
“Look at me.” he hisses. I tentatively raise my gaze to his. I look into deep brown irises and see nothing but hatred. Total and utter resentment. A sour taste fills my mouth and I swallow thickly.
“What did you do while I was gone?” He grabs my ponytail, jerking my head down and pulling it closer to his. The scent of alcohol on his breath floods my nostrils as I try to stifle my whimper of pain from the harsh movement, skull still sore from yesterday's punishment. A tilted head and squinted eyes shift around my face as he studies, examines for any discrepancies. Just one thing wrong and all hell will rain down. Finally, he lets go and shoves me away. He moves farther into the cabin, again looking for anything out of place.
This routine happens almost every night, yet I always forget how nervous I start to feel. My heart pumps heavily against my chest and I feel the blood rushing through my veins as a pounding beat drums in my ears. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, trying to calm my erratic pulse. Did I remember to vacuum his recliner chair? Did I put all the dishes in the right cabinet? I know I did. I think I did.
Somewhere in the cabin a door slams shut and footsteps thunder towards me. Before I can even think about what I forgot to do, I hear a sharp crack slice through the air. It happens so quickly, I don’t realize it was his palm connecting with my face.
“Really? You couldn’t remember to shut my closet door? You’re such an idiot.” Two meaty palms meet my shoulders as I’m shoved into the kitchen. His fist pounds into my stomach over and over until I’m on the ground, barely breathing.